


Turn the Page

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Established Relationship, Futurefic, M/M, hurt-comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-02-18
Updated: 2003-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-01 07:01:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/353478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark vents.  Lex waits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn the Page

## Turn the Page

by Wavelength

<http://www.multiverses.50megs.com>

* * *

Lex flinched involuntarily when the front door of the penthouse crashed back on its hinges, and his sputtering, swearing lover stormed through it. A heartbeat later, his composure once again restore, Lex sighed quietly and stared down at the pages of his book without really seeing them. He had wondered how long it would be and what it would take for this to happen again. He'd gotten the answer to his first question, it seemed. 

Something Lex sincerely prayed wasn't irreplaceable shattered against the wall separating the kitchen from the living room. While he personally didn't care if Clark broke every stick of furniture in the apartment if it helped him calm down, Lex knew that Clark would never forgive himself later if he broke another piece of Lillian's china. Several more objects suffered the first's ignominious end, each crash punctuated with harsh, Kryptonian curses that needed no translation. Scrunching down a bit further into the couch lest the next piece of dishware went _through_ the wall instead of merely against it, Lex resolutely focused back on his book, finishing the last sentence and turning the page. 

He had a hard time keeping that focus with the racket coming from the other room. Whatever had happened must have been bad, though honestly, Lex was a little surprised it had taken this long for a meltdown to occur. God knew that the stress Clark was constantly under was enough to make a less hardy soul retreat into gibbering madness. The man led three distinct and very public lives, and all three had caused him varying amounts of grief and pain. 

As Lex's life partner, Clark had been subject to numerous smear campaigns and tabloid headlines, and only his faultless history had saved his reputation. As an award-winning journalist, he was forever exposed to the worst humanity had to offer, each incident tarnishing that Smallville-bred innocence Lex treasured just one bit more. But worst of all, as Superman, whatever innocence left untouched by his investigative reporting was under constant attack - and whatever faith he still had in the human race constantly questioned. Yet Clark, being who and what he was, dealt with the pressure with uncommon grace most days, and a lot of love and support from his parents and Lex on all days. 

The angry venting coming from the kitchen ceased abruptly, and Lex suddenly felt a hostile stare boring into the top of his bowed head. Again, he refused to give any sign that something was wrong. He knew Clark wasn't ready for that yet. Instead, he casually and deliberately went on to the next page. 

Lex hated these rare times. Hated that something or someone could upset Clark so much that his iron control just snapped. Hated that he could do nothing but wait for Clark to come to him. But wait he would. The first time Clark had come home in this state, Lex had acted too quickly, too confident in his ability to make the wrong right that he had ignored all the warning signs. 

Clark had accidentally put _Lex_ through a wall. 

The stricken look on his lover's face in the days and weeks that followed hurt far worse than the injuries Lex had sustained, and it had taken him months to convince Clark that he'd been forgiven. So now, lesson learned, Lex forced himself to stay seated and quietly turned over one more page. 

The skin-crawling sensation of being watched vanished as Clark began to pace. The heavy back and forth tread started in a rhythm almost too rapid for human ears to follow, and Lex had no doubt that if he were to glance up, he'd see little more than a blur. But he didn't look, and gradually the furious pacing slowed to a more normal speed then stopped all together. 

Lex felt eyes on him once more, but the sensation wasn't so angry this time. There was sadness to it now, and a heavy weariness that further diluted the aggression. Those feelings echoed in the sigh Clark let escape before he threw himself onto the other end of the couch. The large piece of furniture scraped back a few feet from the assault, but Lex continued reading, outwardly unperturbed. Soon, soon, he would be able to reach out to Clark. But not yet. Another page slipped through his fingers. 

Despite the helpless frustration Lex felt every time they had to endure this ritual, a part of him was glad this happened now and then. Not only was it healthy for Clark, but it also proved over and over again exactly how much trust he had in Lex. Clark never let anyone else see him like this, not his parents, not Lex himself for the longest time after the wall incident. After a lifetime of being told that he had to be careful and always in control, and then having drastic proof of why that was, Clark had found it impossible to let go. Lex could relate, which was why he'd worked so hard to convince the scared young man that Lex wasn't afraid - of Clark, of his anger, of whatever had caused such a reaction. Once Clark had finally understood that and _believed_ it, he had started coming home. It was a privilege Lex cherished despite the pain it came with, and a responsibility he faithfully undertook when it was demanded of him. 

This was one of those times. Lex heard a soft sound of surrender and felt the cushions dip and shift as Clark crawled over to where he sat wedged in the opposite corner of the couch. A moment later, Clark's arms slipped around his waist and his head fell onto Lex's lap, face pressed tightly against Lex's stomach. 

Now. Now he could act. Lex tossed the book at the end table, not caring if it actually landed there or not, and reached down to his hurting lover. He stroked one hand over the dark-haired head, the other he used to pull Clark closer. The arms around him tightened fractionally, and Lex suddenly felt tears dampening the fine cashmere of his sweater. Curling over the man hiding in his embrace, he pressed a soft kiss to Clark's temple. 

"Bad day, love?" 

The reply was nearly swallowed by the sweater, but Lex heard it anyway. 

"Not anymore." 

The end. 


End file.
